"Who, me?"
"Yes, you; what is your name?"
"My name Nick."
"What are you doing here?"
"Who, me?"
"Yes, you; what are you doing here?"
"I'se des' a-restin', mahsa; I'se mighty tired."
"You are hiding from the soldiers."
"What sojers, mahsa?"
Clearly Nick was no simpleton; he was gaining time; he might not yet know which side I belonged to. I must end this matter. The night was cool. I had no blanket or overcoat. While walking I had been warm, but now I was getting chilly.